


Now I'm Here

by RogerTaylorCanRawMe



Series: Queen One-Shots [19]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Newlyweds making it work long distance, Roger Taylor fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogerTaylorCanRawMe/pseuds/RogerTaylorCanRawMe
Summary: Roger left for a tour of the US the day after you and Roger got married. You've been missing him, so you decide to take matters into your own hands, and arrange a surprise.





	Now I'm Here

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request, and I suck at writing fluff.

It had been the toughest month of your life. The day after you got married to Roger, he had to leave for another tour. On the other side of the world. It wasn’t as if you could see him, or speak to him. The time difference made that near enough impossible. 

But you knew he would be arriving in New York soon. The last time you did speak to him, he mentioned that the label were putting him up. In a lavish suite. On the top floor of the Intercontinental. 

You could only imagine what he would be getting up to in there.

Deep down you felt foolish for doing it. But you felt compelled to. You booked your plane tickets without question. You had to see him. You called Jim. He worked tirelessly, at all hours of the clock. You weren’t sure if it was midnight or the middle of the night for him. But you told him about your plan. He was sympathetic, offering to arrange a key for you at reception. And you warned him not to tell Roger. You wanted to surprise him.

Before you knew it, you were shouldering your way through the hustle and bustle of Times Square. It was nine in the evening and the sun had long since sunk out of the sky. Roger would be on stage. You had time. You stopped in the middle of the pavement, realising that you had no clue where you were. Passers by weren’t happy with you taking a moment to get your bearings. As you scanned the bold signs on the towering buildings that seemed to fold in on you, you couldn’t help but focus on how dreadful this place was. It was nothing like home.

Like a beacon, the sign on the front of the hotel seemed to call out to you. A block ahead. You were almost there. 

You walked so fast that your legs struggled to register what your brain was telling them to do. You were breathless. Your arms ached with the weight of your suitcase. But standing in the foyer, you were one step closer to your husband.

The woman behind the reception desk eyed you. Then she nodded for you to come closer. 

“I’m Mrs Taylor. I was told there would be a key here waiting for me,” you said in a hushed voice. 

“Of course, Mrs Taylor.” The woman turned and opened the key cabinet behind her. Her fingertips ran over the rows of numbers before settling on one key near the top. “Mrs Taylor, your husband’s suite is on the top floor, you can take the elevator. I can arrange for your bags to be sent up if you like. Room service is already paid so feel free to order anything you wish.”

You slowly swiped the key off the reception desk, looking around. “I’m ok, I can carry my bags up, thank you.”

You turned and wandered towards the lift, not quite catching the last of the receptionist’s spiel. All you could focus on was the butterflies in your stomach. Part excitement and part dread. Of course you trusted Roger, but you, his only impulse control, hadn’t been there. Would there be a bunch of groupies already waiting for him in his room? Or would the room be wrecked to the point of being uninhabitable? Those thoughts flooded your mind as the lift took its time ascending. 

Finally, the door pinged open.

Every move you made was slow, looking down at your key and checking it against the small, golden signposts on the walls. Room 976.

The row of rooms ahead seemed to pass in a blur until you got to a junction. Left or right. 

Left.

The first on the left.

With shaking hands you slipped the key into the lock and opened the door.

To your surprise, the room was pristine. And empty. Roger’s clothes hung, clean and ironed in the wardrobe. His suitcase was stowed underneath the bed. The only sign of life in the room were his glasses lying on the dresser, and his aftershave and hairspray beside the bathroom sink. You wondered when Roger began caring about being tidy. But in your tired state, you quickly shrugged it off. 

You flopped down on the pristinely made bed, allowing the cushiony covers to envelope you. Then something cold hit your arm.

A bottle of champagne had rolled from the pillows down to you. On it was a note. ‘To Mr and Mrs Taylor. All the best, Miami.”

You turned on to your back, reading and rereading the note. 

Then tiredness took hold.

You woke up to the sound of the door closing and some shuffling. It was pitch black but you could just about make out Roger’s form in the doorway. Kicking off his shoes. Shrugging off his clothes. Running his hands through his hair. 

You sat upright, the springs in the bed giving you away. 

Roger stopped moving. “Hello?” He flicked the light switch and got the fright of his life.

You couldn’t hold in your laughter as he cowered back against the door, in his underwear, not realising it was you.

“Rog!” You giggled, scrambling to your feet to give him a hug.

“W-what are you…. How did you get here?” He said, sinking his face into your shoulder.

You pushed him back, just a bit. “I wanted to see my husband.”

He pulled you straight back into him. “I’ve missed you so much. Mrs Taylor.”

You laughed into his chest, sending chills through him. “I still can’t get over how amazing that sounds.”

“I still can’t get over the fact that we actually did that,” he laughed. “I thought your dad was going to have a fit.”

“Oh I think he did. In secret.” You looked up at him, pressing tiny, gentle kisses to his chin. “How was tonight, darling? Look at this, you’re still all sweaty and gross,” you remarked. Your fingers caught in the matted strands of hair. 

“My night’s so much better now you’re here,” he said, removing your hand from his hair and kissing your palm.


End file.
